


One seeing, one knowing, one love

by psychomachia



Category: Knightfall (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medieval Insults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 23:21:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20455235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychomachia/pseuds/psychomachia
Summary: Talus will run out of names to call this fool if he persists on staying where he's not wanted.Landry doesn't mind.





	One seeing, one knowing, one love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yujacheong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yujacheong/gifts).

Talus stares, unimpressed, at the young knight who is currently dangling by one foot from a tree, spinning around in a gentle circle.

He pokes at him with one finger.

“I thought I told your order to stop sending their knights after me,” he says. “I made it quite clear to the Grandmaster that I was not going to return.”

The knight, young, handsome, and as dumb as all the rest, gives Talus an upside-down smile. “I haven't come to drag you back, Brother Talus,” he says. “I just came to talk to you.”

Talus grimaces, thinks about leaving the knight up there a little bit longer, until all of his brains have completely leaked out. But it's going to be dark soon and he wants to get back, drink some ale, and curl up on his pallet, having survived another miserable day. He can tell just by looking at the knight that he's more trouble than he's worth.

Instead, he removes the knife from his pouch, cuts the rope on the ground, and the knight plummets to the ground. It's not a long drop, though, so he'll be fine. Probably.

“Just go back to your temple,” Talus says. “Let them know they have no need of me.”

The knight picks himself up, wipes the leaves and dirt off his tunic, and continues to smile at Talus. “My name is Brother Landry,” he says. “And I'm sure your wisdom and guidance would be most welcome.” He holds out his hand.

Talus ignores it, turns his back, and starts walking back. If the knight has a modicum of sense, he will take this as a sign and return to his order.

He does not.

* * *

Brother Landry is polite enough not to wrinkle his nose upon crossing Talus's threshold, ducking into the hut. He does not comment upon the numerous holes in the walls, the broken bits of furniture that were most clearly not smashed by Talus in a drunken rage, or the piles of rags that serve as Talus's bed. Instead, he dusts off a stool, sits down upon it, and bows his head for a quick prayer.

“I don't know what you're praying for,” Talus says. “If God actually listened, you would be long gone by now, you skamelar.”

Landry does not respond and merely finishes speaking a few quiet words before raising his head. “God does listen,” he says. “He has sent me to you, that I may learn from your teachings.”

Talus picks up the cup from the table, drinks it quickly, letting the ale run down both sides of his face. “A fine student you would be. You're a fool, an ignorant roustabout, and my words run through you like water. Has your head rotted entirely or can you still grasp that I am not the one you need?”

Landry shakes his head. “I know what you've said,” he says patiently. “But they are unworthy of you and all you've done for us. I do not believe you actually mean them.”

He feels the anger build inside him. Few knights were able to find him, fewer willing to keep pursuing him after the trap. He may no longer be a Master but most of the young ones were still cowed by his words, wary of following him back and so they turned away. If this is the best the Templars are sending, he had thought, then they were more doomed than he could have possibly predicted.

“Things most be most dire,” he says, “if they would take a faithless drunkard into their order. If we are at the point where I am needed to save the Templars, than you are past the point of saving.”

Landry smiles. “No one is past the point of saving,” he says. “Not you, not me, not those we dedicate our lives to. And you must agree with me at least a little.”

Talus pours more ale. “Clout,” he says. “Nothing I have told you would show that.”

“You said we.” Landry's voice is quiet. “It's enough.”

Talus, even in his increasing drunken stupor, recognizes his error and shivers. There will be no getting rid of this young fool now.

* * *

Talus does not remember falling asleep, but it is not uncommon for him to pass out, wake up with his face pressed into the dirt or a pile of rags. The sickness upon waking is also common, a pain in his head, a dizzying whirl of his surroundings when he moves, and a sloshing in his belly that makes him nauseous.

All of this is true when he wakes, but what is also true is that there are a pair of cool hands on his forehead, a wet rag smoothing back his hair.

“Peace,” a voice softly says. “There is no need for you to rise. It is still early.”

“You loggerhead,” he says. “You cumberworld, you clout...”

Landry chuckles. “You have repeated yourself,” he says. The cloth wipes at his face, down his neck. The touch is caring, gentle, and it makes Talus even angrier. How dare he after all of this, after all--

Talus's stomach churns and he's able to turn over, retch to one side, spitting up bile. Landry is holding him, rubbing his back in smooth circles. “Peace,” he says again. “I am here for you.”

The Lord must truly hate him, Talus thinks terribly, and lets the young knight wipe his mouth.

The rest of the day is spent in utter misery. It is hard to say which is worse, the agony from his overindulgence the night before (and the many days before that), or Landry, who is determined to look after him. He brings Talus cool, clear water to drink, sponges him down, and when Talus tries to curl into a ball, Landry patiently gathers him into his arms, holds him until the shaking passes.

“Get me some ale,” Talus says at one point. “It will--”

“No,” Landry says, and he keeps saying it long after Talus is spitting at him, cursing his name, and flailing in his arms. “No.”

He eventually finds relief in darkness, his body betraying him to the abyss.

_There is pain and betrayal and the biting chill of chains around his wrists. There is no one coming to save him, and they mock his faith in his God, in his brothers, in everything he holds dear. He is firm at first in his dedication, in his heart, but it fades as each day passes and the pain is all he is left with. When he is freed, he is a broken shell of a man who wants nothing more than to be left alone – truly alone._

The cool night air is what wakes him, the wind stirring his hair. It is not as cold as he might have expected, for one reason alone.

Landry is still there, a warmth wrapping around him and holding him tight. He has fallen asleep, holding Talus, and is softly breathing into his hair. He has seen him at his worst, hurling insults at him in between Talus showing just how weak and unworthy he is to rejoin his brothers. And Landry does not reject him, does not cast blame or call him a sinner, but holds him and trusts him to remain at his side.

It does not take long for Talus to realize he is weeping and he closes his eyes, wanting to return to the dungeon. It is far less dangerous since there, he no longer has any hope.

* * *

Landry is not there in the morning.

Talus laughs, a harsh one that rips itself out of his dry throat, more bitter than anything else.

Of course he left, he thinks. It is another one of those illusions shown by God to mock him for having faith. Perhaps he dreamt it all in a fevered drunken stupor, a hallucination to crush him even further. Well, there is a simple remedy to this.

One need never wake up from a dream if one is always in it. That irritating fool may have gotten rid of all the ale he could find, but Talus is far more clever than Landry and there will always be something he can't find.

Buried, deep under the corner of the hut, Talus pulls out a jug. It's still heavy, meaning that the fool didn't get to it. The cork comes out and it may be swill, but it will fulfill his purposes.

He lifts it to his lips, still shaky and he has to hold it with both hands.

There's a clanking somewhere in the distance.

Talus sighs. Perhaps if he just--

A scream. A yelled curse.

He owes nothing to this man. Nothing. He takes the jug, hefts it in his hands. There's not much else in the hut he values and if he runs now, there's a good chance that he'll make it free and clear. There are plenty of places to sleep for the night and it's a clear sky outside.

More clanking. More shouting.

Talus tips the jug upside down, lets the liquid run into the dirt until the jug is empty. He lets that fall too and then goes to find the other thing that Landry didn't get his hands on.

Just as well. He would have been insufferable about it.

* * *

Landry is fairly good with his sword, Talus is pleased to see. One man goes down to his blade while another is on the ground, moaning and clutching his stomach. But he is not invincible and there are another two already making their way towards his back, dishonorably teaming up to take him out.

It's a tactic Talus would grudgingly approve of, but as it is directed towards a certain young fool, it cannot be allowed. He swings his sword, not as smoothly as he used to, but still enough to take out a crooked-nosed knave with little effort.

The other one is taken off guard by Talus's appearance and Landry is able to finish off his foe before turning his attention to him, dispatching him. Landry is breathing heavily, blood running down his shoulder, and he wipes some more from his lips.

“I'm sorry,” he says. “I had hoped to keep you away from this until--”

Talus walks up to him and slaps him on top of his head, careful to pull back just a little. Landry winces. “You are not to do anything without my permission, Brother Landry,” he says. “Are we clear?”

There's a moment where Landry looks confused and then as if something finally dawns in his fat head, he smiles widely and bows his head. “Yes, Brother Talus,” he says. “Welcome back.”

Talus snorts, puts his sword down on the ground. It won't be that simple, he thinks. He's still shaky, his sword is rusty, and nightmares don't just go away once you've decided to walk the path again. But Landry is so full of faith, his face delighted and reverent, and honestly, there's only one thing left to do.

He kisses him.

Landry leans into it.

* * *

Talus has a massive headache and he's certain that if he asked for some ale from one of the many dumb, young knights that are staring at him with worshipful expressions, the sad, betrayed look he would get would be enough to make him want to hit his head on the stonework.

“Master Talus,” one of them says. “We are so happy you have chosen to guide us!”

He grunts. It's up to them to interpret what that means. Hopefully, go away and wait until I throw you to the ground in the next training.

But the chattering fool continues. “And Master Landry tells us you saved him. Please look after him. He wasn't supposed to leave the grounds, especially considering--” Then his mouth clamps shut, as his eyes dart about suspiciously.

Interesting. “Oh,” Talus says. “Do tell me why.”

“I don't think I should--”

“Surely, you can tell this old master, especially when he has just returned to help you.” Talus won't say he's good at flattery or cajolery, considering his usual ways, but he is quite good at leaning over someone in a way that says, no matter how tall you are, I will always loom larger.

The young knight swallows nervously.

"Well..."

“Landry, you utter harecop,” Talus says, storming into his room.

Landry looks up from the bed. It didn't take Talus long to figure out that once everyone seemed to profess ignorance of where the knight had gone off to. Just think of the worst place to be and lo, he shall be there.

“Ah,” Landry smiles. “Someone told you.”

Talus would love nothing better than to shake the fool until his head rights itself, but he settles for a hissed, “The blood of our Lord and savior, and you run around the countryside risking it all. How foolish, how wasteful--”

Landry rises from the blankets, completely naked, and kisses him deep.

Talus still fumes, even as Landry's hand dips lower, rummages through Talus's clothes. The nimble hand closes around Talus's cock.

They break the kiss. Talus pants. “Sacrilege,” he says.

“No.” Landry lets his other hand touch Talus's cheek and the look in his eyes is knowing and beautiful. “Love. And I think He would approve.”


End file.
